


I choose you

by grantairrible



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Nonbinary Grantaire, Other, Pokemon GO Shenanigans, pokestop AU, this is literally just pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 23:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7953703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grantairrible/pseuds/grantairrible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I saw a tumblr post which said "FORGET COFFEE SHOPS AU. I BRING YOU : POKESTOP AUS" and then this happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I choose you

**Author's Note:**

> I don't play pokemon go that much so I know the basics but I wouldn't be surprised if some of the details are wrong. I hope you enjoy it, anyway :)

Grantaire looked up from their phone at the sound of a loud _thump_ and a suddenly missing Bossuet. They stopped walking, sighed, and turned around to help Bossuet up from the ground, where he’d fallen after walking face first into a lamp post.

“Alright,” Bossuet said, rubbing the red mark in the middle of his forehead, “that one was my fault.”

“You walked into a fucking pole, of course it was your fault,” Grantaire said, but placed a kiss to the bump that was already beginning to swell. “All better now.”

“At least I caught-” Bossuet looked down at his phone, and sighed. “Of course I didn’t even catch the bloody zubat. What kind of zubat has the audacity to break out of a pokeball and then flee?”

Grantaire laughed, shaking their head. “Only you, my friend. Come on, there’s a pokestop just up ahead, then we’ll get you home and let Joly fuss over you.”

They kept walking, phones out, until they reached the pokestop. The sun had long since set and the breeze was just this side of unpleasantly cold, and Grantaire wasn’t surprised that the footpath was mostly empty.

Only mostly, however. A guy in a hoodie and star-patterned pyjama pants was standing in the middle of the footpath, staring at his phone, one slippered foot tapping against the ground. He looked up and offered them a smile, eyes scrunching behind his glasses. Oh dear God, that was attractive.

“I live in the building,” the guy said, gesturing at the apartments behind him, “I can’t reach the pokestop from my apartment, though. I’m not just wandering the streets at night in my pyjamas. I thought it would be late enough that no one would see me, but this is Paris, so I should have known.”

Grantaire smiled back at him. “I’d rather be wearing pyjamas at this time of night, too.” They toyed nervously with the edge of their skirt - pyjamas dude was _attractive_ , okay? - and glanced down at their phone to collect the items from the pokestop.

“You look nice, though,” the guy said, and also proceeded to look at his phone. “Sorry, not trying to be creepy. It’s late, you’re probably trying to get home, I’m not trying to imply anything here.”

“It’s cool,” Grantaire said, and turned to get Bossuet before he could accidentally venture into traffic. “I’ve got to run, though. Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

 

* * *

 

Okay, so what if Grantaire found themself back at that same pokestop the very next day? It was _basically_ on the walk home.

Well, it might have been in entirely the wrong direction.

But you didn’t come across cute guys in starry pyjamas in the middle of the footpath every day. Not ones that told you that you look nice and then made sure not to have creeped you out with the compliment, at least.

On the walk over, Grantaire made a deal with themself: if pyjamas dude wasn’t there, they would turn around and forget about the entire thing. Lingering outside an apartment building hoping to run into someone was too close to stalking for their comfort. They would just walk past, collect their items from the pokestop, and leave.

Grantaire was kind of hoping the guy wouldn’t be there; maybe without the cover of darkness (well, semi-darkness, street lights were a thing after all) he would realise what Grantaire actually looked like and not want to look at them ever again.

Grantaire sighed and shook their head, a physical attempt at dispelling mental negativity. _Think positive_.

They were so focused on psyching themselves up that they nearly walked into someone, barely catching themself at the last second. Their phone clattered to the ground, and they spent the drawn-out seconds as it fell praying that the Bossuet-proof phone case would live up to its intended purpose.

“Sorry!” a familiar voice said, and a hand reached out to pick up Grantaire’s phone, fingers brushing Grantaire’s own. Grantaire glanced up into the face of last night’s handsome stranger, and didn’t bother suppressing a smile.

“No, I’m sorry, it was my fault.”

“Both of our faults, if you insist,” the stranger said, and held out Grantaire’s phone for them, briefly checking the username in the corner, “...memeloverrrr420. Wow. That’s.”

“Don’t judge me, I was smashed,” Grantaire said, cringing as they took their phone back.

“I suppose it’s better than a tattoo.”

Grantaire snorted. “Yeah, and I’ve made that mistake too.”

The stranger smiled. “You were the person from last night, yeah?”

“Yes, and you clean up well outside of pyjamas,” Grantaire replied. It wasn’t what they meant to say, but it was the truth - this guy was the pinnacle of the hot librarian aesthetic, all rolled up sleeves and glasses and sensible knitwear. He was wearing a tie with bees printed on it, and Grantaire briefly entertained the notion of it securing their wrists to a bed.

“Oh,” the guy said, ducking his head, “thanks. I like what you’re wearing, again.”

“God, I don’t even know what I’m wearing.” It was probably black, and definitely torn. Their shoes were falling apart and their jacket was covered in shoddily sewn on patches. They saved their nice clothes for work, so they tended to look like shit on the weekends. “Don’t look at me.”

“I meant it,” the guy said. “I could never pull it off.”

Grantaire shrugged - this guy could probably look good in a garbage bag if he wanted to - but their attention was momentarily distracted by their phone vibrating. “Sorry, let me just catch this.”

Pyjama dude waited patiently, watching on as Grantaire caught a jigglypuff with ever so slightly shaking hands.

“I was actually just going to check out a charmander nest I heard about, if you wanted to tag along.”

Grantaire looked up from their phone, eyes wide. _Be cool._ “I’d love to. Just for that, you get to have this jigglypuff named after you.”

“People always spell it wrong, I’ll type it for you.” He did so, and Grantaire checked out the newly named jigglypuff.

“Combeferre.” They liked the sound of that. “Did I pronounce it right?”

Combeferre nodded. “And you?”

“I’m Grantaire.”

“Well, Grantaire,” Combeferre said, unlocking his phone, “let’s go catch some pokemon. There’s a cafe on the way that does great coffee.”

 

* * *

 

They stopped at a tiny cafe that somehow also functioned as a second hand bookstore, despite the complete lack of space, and Grantaire wasn’t all that surprised to find Jehan Prouvaire behind the counter.

“Grantaire!” they called, stepping out to hug Grantaire. “Oh, and Combeferre too. How do you two know each other?”

“Long story,” Grantaire said, and thankfully there were other customers waiting so they didn’t have to elaborate on sort of potentially being on a date with someone that Jehan knew but that they themself barely did. Instead, Grantaire ordered coffees for them and Combeferre, refused to let Combeferre pay, and ventured back into the world with reusable coffee cups and kisses blown by Jehan.

“So you know Jehan?” Combeferre asked, pretty much as soon as they were out the door.

“Yeah, I’m an art teacher, their niece goes to my school. They pick her up sometimes. We talk poetry and mythology, that kind of stuff. You’d think we’d talk about being nonbinary, or whatever, but sometimes it’s nice not to talk about it and still know that someone’s not judging you for it, you know?”

“I get that,” Combeferre said. “Well, I can’t talk from personal experience, but I imagine having you explain your identity must get exhausting.”

“Yeah,” Grantaire said. There was a lot more to it, like having people telling them they somehow didn’t exist, but they didn’t really feel like talking about it right now. “Whatever, people can be assholes. It’s not news. Now, where’s this charmander nest?”

“This way,” Combeferre said, and reached down to take their hand and tug them across the road. He blushed and coughed once he realised what he’d done. “Uh, sorry, I didn’t-”

“Didn’t…?” Grantaire raised an eyebrow. Look, Combeferre had to learn at some point that they were kind of an asshole. Strike that, they were just an asshole, plain and simple.

“I didn’t want to presume. We barely know each other.”

“Then let’s talk,” Grantaire said. “But I really didn’t mind, if you wanted to do that again.”

Combeferre glanced down, shy all of a sudden. “Well, now it’s going to be all weird.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Grantaire said, and took his hand. “See? Now come on, there are charmanders waiting for us.”

Combeferre laughed. “Okay.” His grip on Grantaire’s hand tightened. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

The date ended only once the sun had set, and their phones were low on battery.

“Can I name this one as well?” Combeferre asked, once they had each caught their agreed-upon last pokemon.

“Sure.” Grantaire handed their phone over.

Combeferre had a cute little half-smile, half-smirk, which Grantaire had already learnt meant that he was doing something he thought was both funny and clever, and Grantaire wondered what pun their charmander was going to be named. To their surprise, when they received their phone back, the nickname was a string of numbers.

“Call me,” Combeferre said, and leant down to kiss Grantaire’s cheek. By time Grantaire realised what had just happened, Combeferre was long gone.

 

* * *

 

 _ Grantaire: _ that was smooth as fuck

 

 _ Grantaire: _ also you’re a giant nerd

 

 _ Combeferre: _ It worked, didn’t it? ;)

  



End file.
